


I'm Coming Back To You

by romaenia



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:51:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romaenia/pseuds/romaenia
Summary: post-season 6 finale. Some things I think Nick should have said and Jess deserved.





	1. instant

at first  
She locked her arms around his neck, and shivered from how familiar it was, despite the three years – three years – since she’d touched him like this. If she was holding too close, too tight, it was only from a surfacing need she’d been repressing for so many months, to be as near him as she could. She could not teach or tame her limbs; they had no clue what to do with themselves. In envisioning this, reunion, reunification, a homecoming, she had only seen end, and had no concept of middle. She laughed into his mouth, how ridiculous they were, fumbling in the elevator – he laughed with her and pulled away, taking in her face in a serious and purposeful way that he hadn’t done in quite some time.  
This was the theme, the pattern, in the elevator – them doing what they had been barred from, banned from; however many months they had spent toeing at a line, they could now leap over it. Jess tried to run a list in her head – what had she wanted to do these past three years but wasn’t allowed to. But she was finding it difficult to think coherently; words were jumbling, interrupting one another – she thought his name repeatedly, different inflections and intonations, and giggled. Nervous, she lifted the collar of her jean jacket to her mouth to catch her laugh, and he smiled at her bemusedly. He reached to hold her face, tracing the line of her jaw and the space behind her ear. This was his, crossing off a list. Doing what he’d wanted to but couldn’t.  
Had it really been three years since he’d touched her cheek?  
“Do you-“ She swallowed and looked sideways so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “What are you thinking? What are you doing?”  
“I love you,” he said, simply and honestly as he could possibly muster, as he knew this was a moment, a big one. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t know that I could…”  
She wet her lips, waiting for him to keep going, but he seemed to think she would cut him off. “What?” she implored.  
“I thought this was all over. I didn’t think I could ever be with you again, but I-“ He half-shrugged his shoulders and ducked his head down to kiss her, with a slow urgency that chilled her and at the same time cracked her open, from brain to torso to the slender fingers that were resting on Nick’s shoulders.  
They remained enveloped this way for so many ticking minutes, interlocked and rediscovering and marveling at the intricacies of one another. They took their time like bashful teenagers, but after a while seemed to realize who and where and why they were, and soon his forearms framed her against the elevator wall.  
She pulled away, soft as an eyelash, and nudged her lips to the bridge of his nose, his forehead. Four eyes closed but their skulls pressed together, they encountered a moment in which they were content without kissing, content without pursuit, and instead could breath one another in and out.  
When the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor, Jess took both his hands into hers and walked backwards, pulling him with her with a smile that was flirtatious Jessica, spontaneity and a Mae West-impression Jessica, disappearing both of them into the empty apartment 4D.  
The first time, when he’d pulled her from the elevator, had been musical and exploding and celebratory – but now it was an implosion, quiet and searing and specific. Before, Jess had hummed in his embrace, in the boy-smelling and pretzel-cluttered bed, and sang brief notes in between longer kisses, and he’d pulled away and laughed, and it had seemed remarkable to him that he was not drunk – how long had it been that he was this happy and he was not drunk? The bumbling aspects of that time night together, that had come from the dazed bliss of the madly infatuated who, as far as they knew, had the freedom to be together again and again and again. They had since evolved over three years’ time, and in their places were a couple who were aware that the absence of one another was entirely possible. These were two people who were intent to make each touch translate an emotion that younger incarnations of themselves would never know they were capable of feeling. They were intent, each of them, to disappear into the other.  
Two hours later, Jess wandered of Nick’s room wearing his bedsheet and the messy brown ripples of her hair. She yelled over her shoulder, “No, I’m serious, come look at it-“ but was stopped short at the sight of Schmidt and Winston and Cece and Aly all sprawled on the couch, the four of them leaning tiredly on each other and interconnected as though fused.  
“Well THERE she is!” drawled Schmidt. Jess lifted the sheet higher. “Jessica Day, you owe me a great favor.”  
She cleared her throat, just to sound a little more coherent and less – well – less like she’d been having sex. “How so, Schmidt? And what are you all doing here?”  
“I am the one who gave that nincompoop you’ve been boning the cinematic speech he needed as the final push right into your arms – mazel tov, by the way.”  
“What he means,” Cece corrected, “is that we’re so happy for you guys. Winnie called me when he saw you running into the loft and then Nick running out of it – “  
“Yeah it was a whole thing, we had a group call on speaker and we were all screaming –“  
“-so then we rushed over here to celebrate with you guys, only you were already - celebrating.”  
Fiery patches appeared on Jess’ cheeks. “Oh. And you stayed the whole time?”  
“Yeah, we’ve been having a very loud round of who’d you rather,” said Aly dryly.  
“Awesome, well – as totally not awkward as this is, I think I’m just gonna-“  
“Jess?” Nick poked is head out the door. “Oh hey – literally, all of our friends. So nice to see you at this particular time.”  
Winston and Schmidt both jumped from the couch, yelling, “Aw, my man, congratulations – finally got your head out of your ass, and we’re so proud!”  
“And look at us all now, all coupled and no more fifth-wheel dates, Winston doesn’t have to bring his cat anymore-“  
“I did that TWO TIMES!”  
Jess gently detached herself from the group hug huddled in the open space near the kitchen and made her way to her original destination – her bedroom. She stared for moment at all the emptiness, and then called out, “Hey you guys! Come look.” Her voiced echoed lightly.  
Nick appeared first, immersing his face in the crook of her neck, and then the rest followed.  
“What is it?”  
“Just, I can’t believe how empty it is. This is how it looked when I moved in here, six years ago.” She placed her hand on Nick’s, on her waist. “Nick said it was sad.”  
“It is. This empty room is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, and always will be.”  
“But I think it’s happy,” she said, turning to look at him. “It’s happy and open and full of possibilities, just like it was six years ago. I – I was grateful then and I’m grateful now, that I’m the one who gets to fill it.”  
The room fell quiet, as the six of them looked at the line of three windows.  
Then: “This is the saddest thing you’ve ever seen? Nicholas, your father’s funeral was open casket!”  
They devolved into petulant bickering until finally Cece asked, in an exhausted and indulgent voice, “True American?”  
“True American.”  
“True American.”  
“True American.”  
The group went in search of alcohol, but Nick remained curved around Jess in the empty brick room. He kissed the part in her hair. “You want to go put on some clothes so we aren’t already at a disadvantage?”  
She half-smiled. “Sure.”  
As she followed him out into the hallway, clutching the fraying sheet at her spine, she found herself feeling unsettled, distracted, as though she’d been walking for a long time and only now that she was stopped, could she feel the blisters. 

to be cont'd...


	2. Space

There was coffee, in the morning, or the smell of it drifting richly from the kitchen to Nick’s bedroom door. Jess woke up to a steady murmur of muffled conversation and Nick already awake, standing near the closet and buttoning a plaid shirt. 

She moved heavy, tangled waves of hair from her shoulder to her back. “Hi.”

“Hey, hey, you’re awake. Good morning,” he said, leaning over and kissing her smooth on the mouth. 

“Morning.” 

This, waking to the person she loved and feeling the cool touch of belonging, was the most. Was like a purring cat, was the first lick of vanilla in a dish at her favorite ice cream shop in Portland. She felt the delectable squirm in the lining of her stomach and thought, it’s not possible to get tired of this. 

“How do you feel?”

She sat up in bed. “Relatively okay. I passed out around the time Winston was elected to Congress and Cece got impeached.” 

He readjusted her bangs for her. “Well Schmidt made coffee, but they’re all so hungover they can’t find the mugs.”

“Yeah, that’s because all the mugs in the house are mine. I packed them, they’re in boxes.”

“They aren’t all yours! What about the one I use, the red one? And Winston’s green one?” 

“Those are mine, I just let you guys use them out of the kindness of my heart. When I moved in you were literally drinking your coffee out of an old Chicago Bulls beer stein.” 

“Hey, that stein is the only birthday gift my brother ever gave me.” Nick laughed and pulled a pair of pants from his closet. “These are clean, right?”

She nodded, reaching to find her phone on the nightstand. It was just after eleven. “Yeah. Wait, are you…going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I have to fill in for a shift at the bar.” He saw her smile flit downwards and said, “It sucks, I know. But can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

“What,” she replied, “like a date?” 

When he smiled nearly all of his teeth were visible. “Yeah. Yeah, like a date.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay.” 

When he disappeared out the door, she could hear the rest of them louder from the living room but made no movement to join them. Instead, she burrowed the back of her neck and clawed down with her fingertips, wanting to be inextricable from the mattress and somehow push through the gushing bout of loneliness that was suddenly flooding her. It was difficult to breathe. Above her right shoulder was the portrait that Nick had had taken at the mall. Jess imagined that she was smelling perfume, not sweet, but sharp and thick. 

It was Saturday, and she had no reason to go to work; there was no project for her to do, since her weekends before leaving for Portland had been filled with Nick: helping Nick with his book, his clothes, coaching Nick through any number of bumps in his relationship with Reagan. The irony startled her, that now, when she truly should have her days full of him, she found herself alone. 

Slowly, she wound her hair into a bun and secured it. She slipped her feet onto the floor and padded across the room, grabbing Nick’s flannel robe from off of a chair.   
“Jess! Come settle something for us,” Winston called out when he saw her. “I want to throw a party now that you and Nick are back together and call it Ness: The Reunion Tour. But I’m getting nothing but negative feedback! They’re calling it, quote-“

“Tasteless.” Cece finished for him. 

“Because that’s what it is!” chimed Aly. “It’s weird, even for you, babe.”

“But – c’mon, I was going to have them at the head of the table, and then we would do like a roast, but instead it’s just all of us talking about all the times they could’ve gotten back together before this. And I was gonna make scones!” 

“While the thought of all our closest, engaged and married friends speaking into a mic and reminding us about how long we were separated for is truly tempting - Cece and Aly are right. It’s inappropriate. I mean, Nick just went through a breakup.”

Cece looked vindicated. “Exac- Wait, what?”

“What? I’m agreeing with you.”

“Yeah, but…Because of Nick and Reagan?” Cece knitted her eyebrows together. “I figured that’s the last thing you’d be thinking about right now. Do you really think he’s upset about it?”

She rubbed her eyes, as she pulled a clean glass from the dishwasher and filled it with orange juice. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

“I mean, granted I don’t know him as well as you do, but,” Aly shrugged. “I kind of talked him through that whole thing, and…He seemed like he was okay with it all.” 

Jess had opened the fridge and was struggling with the plastic seam on a bag of cherries; she pulled too tight and the package ripped, sending fruit spilling onto the floor. “Dammit!” She knelt to clean them up, but then immediately stood back up. “It was a serious relationship, okay – a serious, long relationship! Why would he be okay about it?” She released a quiet breath and then turned away from her friends, walking back to her bedroom, which was now filled with boxes. 

“Jess - “said Cece concernedly, but didn’t try to follow her. 

With the door closed, Jess sat down on a box that was packed with her books and pulled up one knee to hug into her chest. It seemed as though the morning had betrayed her somehow, in a way she couldn’t figure out. She stared at the brick wall, and imagined the room with Reagan living in it, those weeks while Jess had been on jury duty. The room full of her, of her thoughts and her life and her tight black clothes and chokers. That had been well over a year ago but now Jess was suddenly feeling possessive over her space in a way she hadn’t before. 

She held herself closer and thoroughly disliked herself for the way she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Comments and feedback are really appreciated:)


	3. faultines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, but that's just because the next chapter is the last and most important. Comments are appreciated as always!

Nick broke two beer bottles and a shot glass at work that day; he couldn’t stop his fingers from quivering. And he kept smiling at strangers, not intentionally, but because he smiled unceasingly and customers happened to be there. Grinning at the broken pieces of glass at his feet, he simply said, “Huh. Do we have a… like a mop thing? Like a dry mop? Broom! That’s the word, it’s broom.” He dropped his shoulders and looked up at the irked man in front of him. “What a great day, isn’t it?”   
He felt lighter. He felt unstoppable. He felt in perfect understanding with the instinct he used to make fun of, to burst into random song. He felt…well, like he had three years ago.

On his break, Nick called Cece, cradling the phone in his shoulder as he cleaned up a bottle of gin he’d somehow dropped. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Cece, where are you right now?” 

“…Um. Nowhere. Why?” 

“Where, Cece?” 

“I’m nowhere, Miller!”

“You’re at the loft, aren’t you?” 

“Okay fine, yes, I am at the loft, but it’s just because I’m helping Jess unpack all of her stuff, and I don’t want to hear it- “

“You know what, you’re right, ordinarily I would lecture you about how you have your own house, but right now you being at the loft is actually better for me. Can you go find Aly?”

“Uh – yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I wanna talk to both of you and I’m almost out of minutes.”

“Minutes, Nick? Seriously?” 

“Just go get Aly!”

“Fine, hang on.” He heard muffled footsteps and a door creaking open; murmuring. Then: “Okay, you’re on speaker. What’s up?” 

“Ok. I want to take Jess somewhere really special tonight and I know that when it comes to planning stuff like this I’m…”

“Terrible.” 

“Handicapped?”

“Inept?”

“I know, look, this is why I’m asking you guys for advice! You’re the only two girls that I’m friends with and you both know Jess, and – I need help, alright?” 

“Ugh, God, Miller, we’re friends now?” Aly sounded impossibly drained, but Nick didn’t worry; she always sounded like that. 

“Ha!” he cackled. “She’s the one who had the entire idea for San Diego, and now she asks if we’re friends!” 

“Wait, San Diego was your idea?” 

“Yeah it’s a long – Look, just. I don’t know.” Aly cleared the sleep from her voice and said sincerely, “It doesn’t matter where you take her, because if a place is nice it doesn’t mean as much as you showing that you know her. Winston asked me to marry him wearing a bobcat costume, for God’s sake, but it was perfect. Find your bobcat costume.” 

Wiping down the bar counter with a rag, his hand suddenly slowed. “You’re right. Thank you, Aly, you are a genius!” 

Cece interjected. “Hey, hang on a second, I’m Jess’ best friend, and just in case ‘find your bobcat costume’ isn’t enough: Jess likes yellow roses, and she likes piano bars. And Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s…I don’t know. Something seems up with her, so just…be careful, okay?”

“What do you mean, something’s up?”

“Oh no, she just got back. We gotta go. Don’t tell her I told you anything!”

“You didn’t tell me anything! Cece, what’s wrong with Jess?” 

He heard the disconnect, but Nick had already felt the steadiness of his new happiness shaking beneath him. She couldn’t end it already, she couldn’t have already changed her mind. It was Jess…he couldn’t have screwed it up already.

 

He returned that night to an empty house. Well, empty of its actual inhabitants; Schmidt and Cece were cheerfully mixing cocktails, and the kitchen lights were the one bright spot in the otherwise dark loft. There was a hollow comfort in the sound of their quiet voices; affectionate and loving, even if he could not make out the individual words. 

He walked at a meandering pace into the kitchen. “Hey guys.” 

“Hey Nick.” Cece licked the taste of lime from her fingers. She kept her gaze darting down from him, and sadly told him, “Jess isn’t here.” 

He nodded, his eyes to the floor. He’d made reservations at a restaurant that he remembered Jess liking, but he had sensed a futility even as he’d made the call. He couldn’t stop thinking – what if he’d kissed her for the last time? And that was it? 

“Yeah, I…” 

Schmidt looked at him, knitting his eyebrows, and then clapped his hand to Nick’s cheek. “You should go find her, you idiot. I can’t go through this again.” 

He dropped his shoulders. “I don’t know, I-“ 

He saw the bourbon on the counter. And, after a split second of drumming his fingers, he swiped a tall glass from the dishwasher and went about making a drink, faster and more accurately than he had all day at the bar. Sugar, ice, cherries. He left half of the glass empty and took his keys from his pocket. 

“What are you, a fifteen-year-old girl at a supervised house party? Put that in a lowball tumbler, you oaf!”

“It has to travel!” He shouted over his shoulder as he left the apartment in long strides.


End file.
